Mr. Arnold Castle was a stocky man in his late fifties with a salt-and-pepper beard. He had a weathered face, though there were traces that suggested that he had been a very handsome man when he was younger.
He had weak, friendly, hazel eyes that crinkled with surprise. He wore a flannel shirt hung loose over faded jeans, he was very thin, but not unhealthy, and his expression shifted from relief at seeing his daughter to curiosity as he clocked the tall, sharply dressed stranger beside her.
After greeting Mr. Castle, Darren kept his gaze steady, doing his very best not to appear disrespectful or too imposing.
Still, at the same time, his dark blue eyes were steady and assessing, taking in the man's tired but kind demeanor as Arnold Castle took an assessment of him as well.
Darren could see. Arnold was a man doing his very best. He was a father worn by life but still standing.
